


got lost in the glare (I couldn't see you there)

by expectopatronuz



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Bakery AU, M/M, all that she can see au, i honestly dont know how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24933715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expectopatronuz/pseuds/expectopatronuz
Summary: “What about you?”“What about me?”“You and Ashton, and all of the flirting the other day,” Calum says, and Michael looks up, baffled.“Flirting? We talked for like, a minute at most.”“And in that minute, I saw Ashton blush more than he ever has, and I saw you more flustered than you’ve ever been."or, a weird bakery au
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood, Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin
Comments: 13
Kudos: 74





	got lost in the glare (I couldn't see you there)

**Author's Note:**

> i don't really know what this is, but i wrote it and wanted to post it, so here we are. premise is based very loosely on all that she can see by carrie hope fletcher and title is from [glimmer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SvM0dEUz_m0) by marianas trench  
> come talk to me on [tumblr](https://calumsclifford.tumblr.com/)!

Michael hears the bell above the front door ring and mumbles a swear. He rushes out of the kitchen, wiping his flour-covered hands on his pants as he reaches the counter.

“Fuck you,” he says, when he sees that it’s just Calum.

“Sorry,” Calum says, grinning. He doesn’t mean the apology, but Michael didn’t mean his comment either. “Will you feed me anyways?”

“Yeah, what do you want?” Michael asks, gesturing to the glass display case, filled with pies and cupcakes and tartes and cookies.

“A chocolate cupcake,” Calum says. Michael frowns and focuses on the cloud around Calum, feels more than sees the **regret** and the **stress** that cling to him.

“No, you’ll have apple pie,” Michael says, then sets about preparing it.

“I don’t know why you bother asking what I want when you always decide for me in the end, anyways,” Calum complains. He slides into one of the stools at the counter, leans the side of his head on one hand.

“I decide what everyone gets,” Michael says, and he does. His customers think it’s fun and quirky, a gimmick that keeps them coming back. He gets it right every time, everyone leaves his bakery feeling better than they had when they walked in. “I can’t make an exception for you.”

“Then what’s the point of being your friend?”

“Hey,” Michael whines. He slides the plate of pie over to Calum. “Have I ever had a miss? Have I ever given you something you didn’t like?”

Calum takes a bite of the pie and lets out a happy hum. His cloud clears a bit when he swallows, even after just the first bite.

“No,” Calum admits, smiling warmly. “You always get it exactly right.”

“I know I do,” Michael says, and laughs when Calum rolls his eyes. “How was work?”

“Busy, but in a good way,” Calum says. “It’s finally warm enough for kids to want to play football.”

“Good, that’s good, Calum,” Michael says. Calum works at the sports shop down the road from Michael’s bakery, but they live in a small town, and the English winters are long, and there aren’t any organised sport leagues. Michael still wonders how they’ve stayed in business.

“How was work for you?” Calum asks, but before Michael can open his mouth to answer, Calum continues. “Actually, don’t answer that. I know it was great because you’re great and everyone loves you and your baking.”

“It was pretty great,” Michael admits.

“Speaking of great,” Calum says. “My friends from secondary school are coming home for the summer, soon.”

Michael feels a swell of **insecurity** around him, but he beats it back with a metaphorical stick. “That _is_ great,” Michael says.

“I can’t wait for you to meet them,” Calum smiles, warm and fond. “They’re going to love you; you’re going to love them.”

“Anyone that can put up with you has the patience of a saint, so I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

“Dick,” Calum says with his mouth full. Michael rolls his eyes.

Michael checks the time – it’s nearly closing, so he starts cleaning up.

“What are you doing tonight?” Calum asks.

“Coming to yours for a beer?” Michael says, hopefully.

“Yeah, and some games?”

“Yes, please,” Michael looks and finds that Calum has finished his pie, so he goes to take his plate. Calum’s cloud has gone misty and weak, and Calum’s sitting taller, eyes brighter. Michael grins with a pride that he can’t share. “Why don’t I meet you there? I have a few more things to finish up before I go.”

“Alright,” Calum stands, but hovers around, leaning down on the counter. “Are you ever going to let me pay you?”

“Not as long as you keep supplying the after-work drinks,” Michael says, smiling. “Go, I’ll be there in like, half an hour.”

“Okay, okay,” Calum walks to the door, turns back and says, “thank you for the pie, by the way.”

“Get the fuck out of here, Calum,” Michael laughs. Calum holds his middle finger up as he leaves.

Michael finishes cleaning up at the counter, and by the time he’s done, it’s past closing. He locks the front door and turns off the lights, then makes his way back to the kitchen to deal with his abandoned pie crust dough.

It’s hard to work his makeshift remedies into doughs, but Michael has perfected his pie crust over the years. He boils water, stirs it with just a little sugar while he burns a vanilla candle and plays the _Twilight_ _Princess_ soundtrack to make **calm** , then leaves it in the fridge until it’s as cold as it can get, adds some ice for good measure, and uses a couple of teaspoons in the crust. Michael has to be careful mixing remedies in his baking, but **calm** compliments almost anything. Michael can use **happiness** , **worthiness** , or **love** in the pie fillings, or like in Calum’s apple pie, **satisfaction**.

The dough is done, mostly. He just needs to form it into a few flat discs to chill overnight. He wraps them in cling film and stacks them in his big industrial fridge, wipes down the counters, fills then starts the dishwasher, and he’s finally ready to go.

He’s tired and sometimes he feels overwhelmed with responsibility, even though he’s here, doing this, by choice. But when he leaves his bakery, locks up and starts walking to Calum’s, he misses the ever-lingering smell of vanilla and coffee, and he knows that it’s all been worth it.

Michael meets Calum’s friends just a couple of weeks later when Calum bounds into the bakery one afternoon with a blond guy trailing behind him.

It’s mid-afternoon, so Michael has a few customers scattered about at the tables and on the stools at the counter, but the after-school rush hasn’t hit, yet.

“Michael,” Calum says, turning to grab his friend’s wrist. “This is my friend, Luke.” Luke blushes a bit, and Michael sees **longing** flare up in his cloud, along with a **sadness** that Michael instinctively knows has been clinging for a while. Calum’s **regret** is the loudest Michael has ever seen it, and he understands immediately, and his heart sinks a bit, for the two of them.

He smiles, though. “It’s nice to meet you, Luke.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Luke says, a bit shy. **Anxiety** starts to bubble around Calum, so Michael gives his most reassuring smile.

“Let’s get you guys something to eat,” he says, and goes about preparing a cinnamon roll filled with **calm** for Calum, and a slice of angel food cake topped with strawberries and filled with **assurance** for Luke.

“But – we haven’t ordered yet,” Luke says. Michael turns to look at them, but Luke is facing Calum.

“We don’t order,” Calum says, smiling over Luke’s shoulder at Michael. “Michael picks for us.”

“Huh,” Luke says, and Michael can tell that he’s sceptical, but it’s alright, because everyone is, at first.

Luke and Calum find a cluster of stools at the counter and take two, but Calum shrugs off his leather jacket and throws it over a third.

“For Ashton,” he explains to Michael. “He’ll be here in a minute, he’s just saying hi down at the bookstore.”

Michael nods and puts the plates down in front of them. “Coffee too?” Calum asks, so Michael sets about preparing those, but he watches as Luke takes a bite of his cake. He blinks slowly, and Michael sees the **longing** ebb.

Luke looks up and catches Michael looking. “Well?” Michael asks. “Did I make a good choice?”

“Yes, this is – this is—”

“Perfect?” Calum suggests, next to Luke.

“Yeah, it’s so fucking good,” Luke adds, and Michael smiles.

“I’m happy you like it,” Michael says, and slides over their coffees, as well as the cream and sugar.

The bell above the door rings, and Calum turns to look first. “Ashton!” he calls out, waving him over. Michael turns to look, and his eyes widen.

Ashton’s cloud is imposing, it’s dark and looming and thick with **loneliness**. Michael has been seeing the clouds since he was a child, since before he can even remember, and he’s not sure he’s ever seen a could like Ashton’s.

Through it, though, Michael can make out a bright smile as Ashton greets Calum and Luke. Calum introduces Michael and Ashton’s smile falters a bit, **insecurity** creeping up around him, so Michael forces himself to lighten up.

“Let me get you something to eat, and some coffee?” Michael says.

“Thank you,” Ashton says, still a bit uncertain. Michael smiles and then he goes over to his display case to get the largest lemon cupcake he has, filled with **belonging**. He fills a cup with coffee and ducks into the kitchen to add some **worthiness** , because Ashton needs the extra boost. He hasn’t tested this combination and shouldn’t serve it, but he can’t bear to do any less.

He comes back with the plate and the cup and sets it down. Luke and Calum are wrapped up in conversation and don’t look up, but Ashton smiles tentatively as he takes a sip of the coffee, black. His expression settles into something a bit more genuine and he looks up at Michael.

“What’s in this? Caramel, or?”

“Butterscotch syrup, but just a bit,” Michael says, because **worthiness** tastes like butterscotch when there aren’t enough other flavours to mask it.

“It’s good, I don’t usually like sweet coffee, but there’s just something—” Ashton trails off and takes another long sip. Michael watches the cloud, fighting desperately to cling to Ashton, clearing up ever so slightly.

“You should try the cupcake,” Michael blurts, unable to stop himself. Ashton breathes a laugh.

“You’re very impatient,” Ashton says. Michael huffs because it’s true.

“Please?”

“I’m eating it,” Ashton says, then peels off the cupcake liner and bites into the cupcake, tilting his head so that his nose avoids the frosting. The cloud fades further, into something much closer to normal.

Ashton giggles softly. “You like it?” Michael asks.

“Lemon,” Ashton says, and takes another bite, giggles around it. “Did you know that I have a lemon tree at my house?”

“Lemon trees grow in this climate?”

“Of course not,” Ashton laughs. “It lives inside. And it doesn’t produce any lemons.”

“Well then,” Michael says. “It’s a good thing I didn’t call off my supplier.”

Ashton laughs unreasonably hard, considering the joke was not very funny. Michael starts to worry that the mix of remedies in the coffee and the cupcake have produced a side effect – sometimes his ingredients don’t go well together and cause excessive giddiness.

Calum and Luke notice and turn their attention to Michael and Ashton. Both seem amused, and Calum has a smug little grin on his face.

“What’s so funny?” Calum asks.

“Nothing,” Ashton says, flushing. Michael will certainly not be serving this combination again, even though Ashton’s cloud has receded so much. Calum and Luke exchange knowing smiles, though Michael doesn’t understand what they think they know.

“So,” Michael starts, carefully changing the subject, “How long are you staying in town?”

Luke looks to Ashton to answer, but Ashton is still blushing and looking down into his coffee, so Luke huffs an amused breath. “Until August,” Luke answers. “Late August. Uni starts back up in September.”

Calum’s **regret** swells slightly, so Michael takes his now empty plate and serves him a piece of apple pie.

“Do you like it?” Michael asks, because he’s never even considered university, but the idea of the experience has always intrigued him.

“Yes,” Luke says.

“Sometimes,” Ashton says. He looks up and smiles at Michael sheepishly. “Do you like working in a bakery?”

“Always,” Michael says.

The bell over the door rings and Michael jerks his head up as a cluster of teenage girls walk in. The secondary school must have just let out, and the bakery will soon be filled with teenagers and their loud clouds.

“I’m going to be busy with this crowd for a bit,” Michael says. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“You’ll hang out with us soon, right?” Luke asks.

“I’d like that,” Michael says. Calum and Ashton hum in agreement as Michael walks over to serve the teenagers.

Calum comes in alone a couple of evenings later, and Michael pretends that he doesn’t feel relieved.

He’s never been particularly social, and he’s not stayed in one town long enough to make good friends, really. He finds a town in need, opens a bakery, and stays only as long as he’s needed, generally four or five months. He’s been here since February, which is four months already, but he feels he still has so much work to do.

He’s happy that he’s found Calum, and he can’t help the **worry** that’s been creeping up on him, can’t help but wonder if Calum would abandon him now that his real friends are home.

Calum sighs dramatically as he drops himself into a stool at the counter. Michael doesn’t even need to look at his cloud to know that Calum needs a slice of chocolate cake filled with **comfort**.

“You seem tired,” Michael says as he serves the cake. “And stressed. And sad.”

“What, do you think you’re a mind reader?” Calum snaps, but he starts to eat and visibly deflates, a little.

“No, I just have eyes,” Michael softens his voice, and Calum relaxes even further. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay,” Michael says. He starts cleaning up, even though it’s a little early. They’re the only two in the bakery, and Michael doesn’t often get other customers this close to closing.

Calum sighs again and Michael turns, leans his elbows on his side of the counter.

“Have I ever told you I’m supposed to take over the shop eventually?” Calum asks, even though he clearly knows that he hasn’t.

“No, I didn’t know,” Michael says.

“I’ve been working there since I was in school, and I never planned on going to university anyways. I wanted to play football, but I hurt my knee in my last year, and it just, it made sense, you know? It made sense to agree, I loved working there.”

“But?”

“It’s been three years now, since Luke and Ashton left, and it just sucks, sometimes,” Calum says. “To be the one left behind.”

“Oh,” Michael says. Calum takes a miserable bite of cake. “I’m sorry, Calum.”

“I’m not like – I’m not mad, or anything. I don’t regret it,” Calum says, but Michael can see that he does. “I just miss them, and all they ever want to talk about is school, and their friends in the city, and I get it. I know that my stories aren’t as interesting. I just – I just—” Calum trials off into a sigh, then takes a large bite of cake.

“You do have interesting stories,” Michael says. “You tell me your stories all the time.”

“That’s different,” Calum scoffs.

“How?”

“You just – you understand. I don’t have to explain everything all the time. It’s easy.”

“I’m sure your friends understand you, too,” Michael says, but he feels an embarrassing surge of **smugness** that he swallows down.

“It’s fine when it’s just Ashton,” Calum admits, then looks down to carefully scoop up the last bite of cake. **Longing** starts to brush at Calum’s sides.

“I think if you told Luke how you felt—”

“I don’t feel anything,” Calum says defensively.

“I just meant about the understanding,” Michael says, and Calum blushes. “But that kind of sounded like—”

“Michael,” Calum says firmly.

“Okay,” Michael nods, grabs Calum’s empty plate and turns to clean up. “But if you ever want to talk about it—”

“I know, thank you,” Calum says. He smiles suddenly, a mischievous thing that Michael doesn’t trust. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You and Ashton, and all of the flirting the other day,” Calum says, and Michael looks up, baffled.

“Flirting? We talked for like, a minute at most.”

“And in that minute, I saw Ashton blush more than he ever has, and I saw you more flustered than you’ve ever been,” Calum says, and Michael tenses. He’d thought that he had managed to diffuse that situation, thought he’d gotten away with his risky mix of remedies, but clearly Calum had noticed.

“I don’t think you’re remembering it the same as I am,” Michael says, cautiously. Calum snorts.

“I know you both pretty well, so believe me. You were flirting.”

“Seriously, Calum,” Michael keeps his voice casual, but he has to work to do so. “That wasn’t what was happening. I was a little nervous to meet your friends, maybe that’s what you noticed.”

“No, because you were normal when it was just me and Luke—”

Michael takes a long breath and makes a split-second decision that he already knows he’ll regret, but is the safer option. “Fine,” he says, and lies through his teeth. “Fine. I thought Ashton was cute. I was – I was flirting, a bit.”

“I knew it,” Calum says, smug.

“Can we drop it now, then?” Michael asks, a little too desperately.

Calum softens. “Hey, it’s alright. He was just as obvious.”

“Maybe,” Michael says, because he can’t exactly tell Calum that Ashton was giggling like an idiot and blushing like crazy because he’d accidentally given him too much positive-emotion-concentrate.

“I’ve known him my whole life,” Calum says. “Trust me.”

Michael doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just keeps cleaning. Calum sighs behind him, and Michael desperately hopes that Calum will have forgotten before he has to spend time with them again.

Calum has not forgotten at all.

He comes in with Ashton and Luke a few evenings later. It’s quiet, but not empty. They find seats at the counter, but before Michael can get anything started for them, Calum is theatrically hitting his forehead like a cartoon character.

“I totally forgot, I promised I’d go move a box at the shop, a big box. Luke, can you come help me?” Calum asks, doing a very poor acting job. Michael rolls his eyes, and Luke shakes his head at Calum in amused disappointment.

“I can help,” Ashton says, “I work out more than Luke, so—”

“First of all,” Calum points one finger at Ashton and grabs Luke’s wrist with the other hand. “That’s super mean to Luke, he’s a strong boy.” Calum backs away, raises his voice as he nears the door. “Second, Luke’s taller.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ashton asks, but Calum and Luke are out the door before he can even finish his sentence.

Michael looks at Ashton’s cloud – it’s better than it was last time, but still dark and imposing.

“I’m sorry about him,” Ashton says, fidgeting in his stool.

“It’s alright,” Michael says, and Ashton finally looks at him. “I’m going to get you a lemon tart.”

“Coffee too? With the butterscotch syrup like last time?” Ashton asks, smiling sheepishly. Michael smiles back, tight.

“Sure, just – yeah,” he mumbles, then fills a cup with coffee and hurries into the kitchen. He searches desperately for something that will imitate the taste of **worthiness** , because he absolutely won’t make the same mistake again. He finds some caramel sauce and some hazelnut syrup, and hopes desperately that a few drops of each will come close enough.

Michael forces himself to relax as he hands the coffee to Ashton, but watches intently as Ashton takes a sip.

**Disappointment** appears in Ashton’s cloud, tiny and fleeting, fades away before it can really grab hold. Ashton’s face remains neutral – Michael would never have known if it weren’t for his weird talent.

“I ran out,” Michael says before he can stop himself. Ashton looks up, surprised, and Michael should stop here, he really shouldn’t dig himself any deeper into this idiotic hole he’s dug, but he can’t stop himself. “I ran out of the butterscotch, I tried something new, but I can make you a new one, black, if you want.”

“No, it’s still good,” Ashton says. “It’s not too sweet, it tastes nice.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael says, because he’s an absolute dumbass.

“It’s alright, I really do like it. It’s not as good as the last one, but it’s still good,” Ashton takes another sip to prove his point, and although Michael is absolutely certain there’s nothing extra in the coffee, he swears he can see Ashton’s **loneliness** fade a little.

“I’m going to get the tart,” Michael says, and takes a few moments to breathe as he does so. He feels better when he comes back, and Ashton is smiling.

“Did you pick a lemon tart because I told you I have a lemon tree?” Ashton asks. He takes a bite and hums appreciatively.

“No,” Michael says, because he in fact baked the lemon tarts in the first place because of Ashton and his lemon tree. He tries to convince himself that it’s only because **belonging** tastes of citrus, and lemon is a citrus, therefore they go well together. He doesn’t quite manage it, though.

“I like flavours other than lemon,” Ashton says. “I like lots of things. Am I supposed to tell you what they are?”

“No, that’s not how I pick what people get,” Michael says. He smiles as Ashton takes another bite while keeping eye contact.

“How do you pick, then?”

“Intuition,” Michael says – the best way he has to explain.

“Intuition?” Ashton laughs, disbelieving. “I’m supposed to believe that you know what someone will like based on intuition?”

“No, I know what they _need_ based on intuition,” Michael says.

Ashton laughs again. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“You don’t have to believe me,” Michael says. “It’s true either way.”

Ashton brings his coffee up to his lips and smiles around the edge as he takes a sip, and Michael thinks that maybe what he’d said to Calum wasn’t a complete lie. Ashton _is_ cute, with his golden-brown curls that look like they might be just a little too long, and with his ever-present dimples despite the overwhelming cloud around him, and with the giggling. Ashton is hot too, muscles defined where his t-shirt sleeves end and Michael wants to see more of them, which is unexpected.

Ashton must notice that Michael’s kind of checking him out, because his eyes dart away and his cloud darkens. Michael looks away before he can embarrass himself further, and sees Calum and Luke peering through the windows.

Michael rolls his eyes and stalks over to the door, but he can’t quite bring a bite to his voice when he opens the door and says, “plan failed, but nice try.”

Calum pouts and Luke shakes his head in bemusement, but they come inside and sit with Ashton, and Calum doesn’t overtly bring it up, he only hints.

Michael doesn’t really start to make progress with Ashton’s cloud until his sixth visit.

Calum makes obnoxious comments to Luke, but Michael doesn’t bother to listen to them. Ashton ignores the Calum of the situation too and smiles brightly. Michael refuses to feel anything about it.

“What kind of lemon dessert have you made today?” Ashton asks. Michael rolls his eyes but slides a plate of lemon meringue pie over. Ashton’s smile widens impossibly.

“Don’t start,” Michael warns, fighting a blush.

“I wasn’t going to!” Ashton says. “I was just going to say—”

“Nope,” Michael interrupts, and Ashton’s laugh follows him as he serves Luke and Calum. He frowns as he focuses on Luke’s cloud; the **longing** is dark and horrible, clawing and scratching. Michael sighs under his breath, hopes Calum will get over whatever’s keeping him back.

Luke hides it well; he and Ashton are giggling about something when Michael comes back. He shoves Calum’s pie over a little too forcefully, but he doesn’t notice. Michael is gentler with Luke, gives his most reassuring smile. Luke smiles back and thanks him softly, then keeps his eyes firmly on his cake as he lets Calum start up a conversation about a girl they knew from secondary school.

Michael sighs again as he watches them, small and quick, before he notices that Ashton’s watching him, and he straightens, leans against the counter casually.

“You must be getting bored,” Michael says. “You spend all of your time at a tiny bakery with these two idiots.”

“The idiots are a detriment,” Ashton says, with a laugh in his voice as usual. “But have you ever thought that the baking might be worth it?”

“It’s not my shining personality?” Michael jokes without thinking, and instantly regrets it as Ashton withdraws and his **loneliness** tightens around him.

“That could be a factor,” Ashton says, despite his cloud, surprising Michael.

“I knew it,” Michael forces himself not to slide down onto the floor, breathless with – he’s not sure what he’s breathless with. Something good, something strong.

“I didn’t say it was a _good_ factor,” Ashton says with a smirk, and takes a bite of the pie.

“You didn’t have to,” Michael says. It falls easily out of his mouth, like there’s a script for this moment, somewhere deep in his brain.

“You’re awfully confident,” Ashton laughs. He is, but it’s more than that, and whatever Michael is feeling, he needs to learn to make.

“Not usually,” Michael says, and he notices that Calum and Luke are listening in, so he stands again. Luke’s cloud is looking better – not great, but better. Calum is smiling but he’s not smug, for once. “How is everything?”

“Amazing, as always,” Calum says.

“Extra good, today,” Luke adds, and for that, Michael gets him another piece of cake.

When Michael arrives at Calum’s later that evening, he’s relieved to find that it’s just the two of them.

Michael likes Calum’s flat a lot. It’s not big but it’s very open, which is hard to find in a small town. It’s lived in, it reminds Michael much more of the bakery than it does of his own flat. Michael’s flat is cold and bland, because there’s not much point decorating a place that he’ll be leaving within six months.

Calum hugs him when he answers the door and Michael lets himself sink into it. Since leaving home, he’s not had people. He’s not had the kind of friends that encourage casual touches, and it’s something that he hadn’t realized he’d been missing, this much. He knows that Calum is an anomaly, that he’s special. Michael won’t find a Calum in his next small town, or any of the other towns he ever comes across. He knows that he needs to enjoy this friendship while he can.

He’s never wanted to stay somewhere before, but Calum makes him want to stay.

“I’ve missed you,” Calum says when they break apart, walks over to his sofa, where there are two GameCube controllers waiting.

“I saw you this afternoon,” Michael sits and snatches up the player one controller, flies through the _Melee_ menu.

“I miss getting to really talk to you. You were too busy flirting with Ashton to pay any attention to me,” Calum whines, a little over the top, and based on the **longing** that’s creeping in around him, he’s just projecting.

“You want to talk about flirting? What about—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Calum says, and Michael swallows a sigh. Calum won’t be pushed – Michael just needs to let him figure it out on his own. “You should ask Ashton out.”

Michael sighs. “Ashton isn’t into me, Calum.”

“I’ve known him my whole life. I know that he is.”

“We’re just flirting,” Michael says defeatedly. He knows that he’s not going to convince Calum, because Michael is the only one who sees the clouds, the only one who sees Ashton withdrawing into his loneliness whenever he starts to get kind of close.

“We’ll see,” Calum says, smug. Michael rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the screen. He picks Fox, just to be a dick.

The game is over in less than three minutes.

Michael is in the middle of kneading cinnamon bun dough when the bell rings.

It’s late, he’s technically closed but he hasn’t had a chance to lock the door yet. The only person who ever comes in this late is Calum, so Michael shouts, “I’m back here, just come through to the kitchen!”

Michael looks up at the footsteps reach the door and startles; he’s never going to assume it’s Calum again.

Ashton hesitates, **uncertainty** materializing around him. “You were expecting someone else?” he asks, keeping his tone light, but his cloud betrays him.

“I thought you might be Calum,” Michael admits. “He’s the only jerk I know who would come bug me after closing.”

“Well, now you know two jerks,” Ashton smiles, and the cloud clears.

“I guess I do. Congratulations, you’re as annoying as Calum.”

Ashton laughs. “A lifelong dream of mine.”

“Does it feel as good as you always thought it would?”

“Better,” Ashton says, and all Michael can see is the ways his eyes light up with his laugh.

Michael clears his throat and looks away, pretends that he’s not blushing. “You can come in, you know. Your lurking is weirding me out.”

Ashton steps out of the doorway and over to watch Michael work.

“Not that I mind,” Michael says. Ashton doesn’t lift his eyes, keeps them on Michael’s hands, kneading the dough. “But is there a reason for the visit?”

“Is that what you’d say to Calum? I feel like I’m missing out on the whole ‘annoying’ experience.”

“Fine,” Michael laughs. “What do you want, freeloader?”

“That’s better,” Ashton says, grinning. “I just finished my shift at the bookstore, it was a long day.”

“And what, you thought that entitled you to bother me?” Michael says and Ashton lets out a loud laugh. “What? You wanted the full experience.”

“I appreciate it,” Ashton looks up. “I was craving lemon, alright? I don’t even know what kind of dessert; I just need something lemon. You’ve like, conditioned me.”

Michael laughs and settles his dough into a bowl to rise in the fridge overnight. “I can help with a lemon craving,” he says as he washes his hands. Ashton’s eyes follow him.

“You’d better, since you’re the one who caused it.”

Michael leads Ashton back out to the counter and pulls out a lemon cupcake, same as the one he gave him when they first met. They lean back against the counter, side by side.

Ashton takes a bite and Michael watches as he licks icing from his top lip. “Did you always want to do this?” Ashton asks, and Michael’s brain is blank.

“What?”

“Did you always want to own a bakery?”

“Oh,” Michael looks down, so that he doesn’t have to watch Ashton eat the damn cupcake and so that he doesn’t have to have feelings about it. “No, I wanted to be a songwriter.”

“Really?” Ashton asks, voice high with surprise. “What changed?”

“I realized I had a talent, with this,” Michael says, gesturing to the store around them. “I just wanted to help people, really. I wanted to make people happy, and I make people very happy here.”

“That you do,” Ashton says. Michael turns to look as he takes another bite, and he smiles around the cupcake. Michael feels breathless again, the same breathlessness as before, the same unidentifiable **good**. He lets out a tiny exhale, and Ashton immediately turns away.

“Why do you do that?” Michael asks before he can think too much about it.

“Do what?” Ashton says, but his voice is tight.

“Shut down, hide, withdraw,” Michael says. Ashton looks back at him, but Michael can tell that he’s forcing it. “Why do you withdraw when I – when I—”

“I can’t explain it.”

“You can—” Michael starts, but Ashton interrupts.

“It doesn’t really make sense,” Ashton says, firm and decided. Michael stills, watches as **fear** curls around Ashton.

“I’ll believe you,” Michael says, and Ashton shifts uncomfortably.

“I can’t tell you this, I barely know you,” Ashton says, but Michael thinks that it’s not true. He thinks that maybe he and Ashton know each other better than they think they do.

“Tell me anyways.”

They stand there, both half leaning against the counter for a long moment, before Ashton takes a long breath.

“There’s—”

The bell above the door interrupts him and they turn. Calum is there, grinning at them.

“I was going to see what you were up to, but if you’re busy—” Calum says, and when Michael turns back, Ashton is withdrawn again.

“No, come in. I was just about to leave anyways,” Ashton says. He bolts around the counter and to the door, calls “thank you for the cupcake!” and then he’s gone. 

Calum stares in obvious confusion. “What was that?”

“Fuck you, Calum,” Michael says, but he’s tired and there’s no bite behind it.

Michael isn’t obsessing over it, it’s just that he’s struggling to stop thinking about Ashton and whatever his secret might be, whatever makes his cloud so heavy.

He’s distracted all afternoon, barely pulling it together long enough to figure out what any of his customers need. He keeps twitching towards the lemon squares he made the night before, even though he knows that Ashton probably won’t be returning any time soon.

He’s not surprised when Calum and Luke turn up in the evening and only take two chairs, but he is disappointed. He gets Calum some apple pie and Luke a strawberry cupcake mindlessly, then leans against the counter while they eat.

“What happened yesterday?” Calum asks once he knows that Michael is listening.

“I don’t know,” Michael says. He’s not going go around telling Ashton’s friends that he has a secret, but it’s mostly true. Michael doesn’t know what happened.

“Come on,” Calum says, “He refused to leave his house, you have to know something!”

Michael just shakes his head, and Calum and Luke exchange knowing looks.

“Okay, what?” Michael says, a bit biting, and they turn to look at him, surprised.

“It’s just – well, Ashton never lets anyone in,” Luke says.

“And it’s obvious that you’re not willing to admit there’s something there—” Calum continues.

“But it’s obvious that you like each other—”

“And should just tell each other how you feel—”

“No,” Michael interrupts, stands straight. “No, neither of you have any ground to stand on here.”

“What do you mean?” Luke asks, but **anxiety** creeps in around him, and Calum’s eyes go wide with **panic**. 

“You both know exactly what I mean, and I’m not going to stand here and listen to _you_ tell me to be honest about how I feel,” Michael says. He regrets it immediately, he let his emotions get the better of him, which he almost never does, and he wants to take it back when he sees their clouds darken.

“I should go,” Luke mumbles and leaves his cupcake half eaten, rushes out the door before Calum or Michael can say anything.

Calum watches him through the windows, until he’s out of sight, then drops his head into his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Michael says. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It was kind of shitty,” Calum sighs, then lifts his head. “I didn’t realize you and Ashton was a sensitive subject, I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Doesn’t mean I can just—”

“This isn’t worth arguing about,” Calum sighs again. “I should go too, try to figure out how to fix this.”

“Calum—”

“It’s fine, Michael. Seriously, I just need to go.”

Calum leaves and Michael looks around his bakery, at the few lingering evening customers. Most of the clouds are so much lighter, he realizes. Maybe it’s been willful ignorance, or maybe he’s just not been paying enough attention. He’s done enough here, probably. If it weren’t for his friends, he’d be ready to move on.

He thinks about how much worse he’s managed to make everything in the past day, and he thinks that maybe he should move on anyways.

It’s always quicker work closing down the bakery than he feels it’ll be.

Within a week he’s made the necessary arrangements, packed his décor and most of the tables and chairs away. Calum hasn’t come to see him, and Ashton hasn’t either. He figures it’ll probably be easier anyways – he’s grown far too attached in the couple of months he’s known these people.

It’s his last day and it’s not been busy – maybe mostly because no one really needs him anymore, maybe because the bakery already looks kind of closed. He doesn’t mind, it gives him time to mentally prepare.

He thinks he’s doing okay as the day goes on, until Luke turns up, surprising him.

The first thing Michael notices is that his **longing** is gone, which means that he and Calum finally sorted themselves out.

The second thing he sees is that Luke looks angry.

“What’s all this?” he asks, gesturing to the empty walls and space where the tables used to be.

“Oh,” Michael says, struggles to swallow a lump in his throat. “It’s just – it’s just time for me to go.”

“You can’t,” Luke says, like it’s obvious.

“I have to, it’s what I do. I only ever stay as long as I’m still needed.”

“You _are_ still needed,” Luke says, voice raising slightly. At least the bakery is otherwise empty. “What’s Calum supposed to do when you go? You’re his best friend.”

Michael winces at that, and firmly reminds himself that there are other people in other towns that he can help. “He went his whole life without me, he’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” Luke says. “And what about Ashton?”

“He’s not into me,” Michael says, and Luke huffs and storms right out.

Not even twenty minutes later, Ashton is storming in.

“You’re leaving?” he says, in a near shout. Michael opens his mouth to respond, but Ashton stops him, “No, you can’t be leaving. I know you wouldn’t.”

“I have to,” Michael says. Ashton walks around, behind the counter so that they’re face to face.

“You’re not. I _know_ how much you love it, here.”

“I do,” Michael admits easily. “But that doesn’t mean I can stay.”

“Bullshit,” Ashton pokes his shoulder, which isn’t as aggressive as he probably means it to be. “I can see how happy you are, how much you care about Calum and how much you want to help Luke and how much you want me. I know you don’t want to go; I can _see_ that you don’t want to go.”

“You can see it?” Michael asks, breathless, suddenly. Ashton flushes and takes a step back, **panic** surrounds him. “No,” Michael says, taking a step forward. “You can see it, what does that mean?”

Ashton shakes his head. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“I won’t,” Michael promises. “I really won’t.”

Ashton takes a long breath and steps forward, reaches a hand out. Michael waits for it to make contact with his face, but it doesn’t. Ashton’s fingers brush at the air next to Michael’s cheek. “I see **belonging** , here. It’s always with you, every time I’ve been in here.” Ashton brings his hand down to the space near Michael’s wrist. “And **affection** , here. It’s usually bigger, because usually Calum and Luke are around.” Ashton brings his hand back up to Michael’s chest, stretches his fingers out so his palm is almost pressed to his heart. “And here, here, you’re got – you’ve got—” Ashton trails off and drops his hand, clears his throat. “You think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t,” Michael says. He reaches out, right next to Ashton’s shoulder, where **loneliness** is clinging strongest. He’s never tried to touch them before, the things that follow people around. He usually goes around them or through them, but his fingers curl around the **loneliness** and it curls back around him, drawing away from Ashton. Ashton shivers as Michael lets it pass over his hand before it starts to fade. “I see **loneliness** ,” Michael says, and watches as Ashton’s eyes widen. “More than anyone else I’ve ever seen. Michael brings his hand up closer to Ashton’s head and gently pulls. “And **fear** , up here. Not always, only when I get too close.” Michael drops his hand.

“You see the bad,” Ashton says. He reaches out for Michael’s wrist again, this time touching him, then sliding down and linking their hands.

“And you see the good.”

Ashton nods. “Around everyone, all the time. Sometimes bigger, sometimes it’s sort of fuzzy.”

“Like clouds,” Michael says, and Ashton nods.

“I never thought anyone would believe me,” Ashton says. This close, it’s hard for Michael to tell if Ashton’s cloud is clearing or if he just can’t see it.

“Me neither.”

“Please don’t leave,” Ashton says, brings his free hand up to Michael’s neck.

“Okay,” Michael says, without thinking. Ashton smiles and then Michael’s leaning in, and then they’re kissing.

It doesn’t last long. They break apart when the bell above the door rings and Calum shrieks “Luke had _better_ be lying!”


End file.
